


only miss the sun when it starts to snow

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Christmas, Endgame Parsby, Found Family, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: During a Christmas with Bitty at his family home, Jack meets Kent's boyfriend and realizes that he's not as over Kent as he's been pretending to be.





	only miss the sun when it starts to snow

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit headcanons, fic ideas, or just talk about Kent!

The first Christmas that Jack brought Bitty home to Montreal, Jack’s parents told him that they also had invited Kent and that he was also bringing along his boyfriend.

“It seemed only fair to let him bring a plus one,” Alicia explained. “After all, you’re bringing Bitty.”

Begrudgingly, Jack conceded that it _ was _ fair. The unfair part came along when Kent arrived at the house and Jack was introduced to his guest: Sidney Crosby.

Seriously, Jack couldn’t _believe _ Kent expected him to buy that Sidney Crosby would want a relationship with _ him_.

“So nice to meet you both,” Crosby enthused to Bitty and Alicia, lifting his arm from where he’d had it wrapped comfortably around Kent’s shoulders to shake their hands. “And Bob, Jack, so good to see you again.”

“You, too,” Jack replied stonily even as Bob beamed and clapped Crosby on the shoulders before turning to give Kent a bear hug. 

Wrapping his arms around Bob’s broad back, Kent used the opportunity to flash Jack a smirk that went unseen by anyone else. Instantly, Jack’s hackles began to rise, not helped in the slightest by Bitty turning a reproachful gaze on him.

“Did you know who he was bringing?” Bitty hissed the moment Bob and Alicia were distracted by Kent handing them the bottle of wine he brought to them from some pretentious Nevada vineyard.

As much as Jack didn’t want to admit it, it was a reasonable question. He hadn’t even told Bitty that Kent would be joining the family for Christmas until they were pulling the rental car into the driveway. He hadn’t wanted to endure the stress of spending the entire trip listening to Bitty worry out loud about what scheme Kent would try to pull. Still, he resented the implication that he was dishonest.

“I had no idea!” Jack defended himself. He was telling the truth. “I don’t even know why Crosby would be into him!”

That was a lie. Crosby and Kent had similar records and career paths, and while it was a widely contested topic in hockey about which one was the best player of their generation, it was almost universally agreed upon that they were both two of the greatest players of all time. No explanation was needed, really, to justify why anyone would date either of them.

Not that Jack would date Kent again. Just . . . look, he could understand Kent’s appeal, okay?

Still, Jack didn’t buy for an instant that he and Crosby were dating. It was all a scam, he told himself. A scheme Kent had arranged to make Jack feel inadequate by dating the other top-ranked player in the League, the player all of Canada admired and saw as their hockey savior.

That _ had _ to be it. Right? 

Anxiety twisted in Jack’s stomach at the idea of it being anything else, the uncertainty of the situation automatically bringing his stress level to rocket. 

Clearly, he needed answers.

“I thought you two were rivals,” Jack muttered to Kent as all of them worked together to decorate the living room Christmas tree. There were several other trees in the house that were already bedecked with ornaments, but Alicia and Bob liked to wait until Jack came home to decorate the final one as a family. 

He’d intended the remark to be casual, but there was an element of accusation in his tone, and Kent darted a knowing smirk his way.

“Thought you knew history? Make love, not war, Zimms,” he replied in an undertone, clapping Jack on the shoulder and sauntering off, leaving him there sputtering.

He walked right over to Crosby, who had just finished placing a sparkling white icicle high up on the tree. Without wasting a second, Kent grabbed Crosby and kissed him hard. And immediately, Crosby stopped everything he was doing to wrap his arms around Kent and pull him as close as he could against him. Seeming to take Kent’s enthusiasm as a challenge, he kissed him back with all the fervor and passion he appeared to be able to muster, and, with outrage surging through him, Jack swore he spotted a flash of Crosby’s tongue pushing into Kent’s mouth. And he told himself he was disgusted by it even as a thrill shot through him.

“All right, you two, this is a _ family _ gathering, remember?” Bob ribbed them, but he smiled as he did. 

Alicia chuckled. “You boys keep up that kind of behavior, and Santa won’t be bringing you any Christmas presents.”

Crosby pulled back from Kent, all but gazing at him with hearts in his eyes as Kent nuzzled against his neck. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Crosby told them, smiling widely. “I already have everything I want right here.”

Kent just gave him a coy smile and a peck on the lips in return, and Jack’s stomach churned with what he told himself was nausea. 

At the sight of Crosby and Kent’s kiss, Bitty began glancing between them and Jack, the way he always did whenever he wanted Jack to notice something. And Jack noticed Bitty looking at him, really; he was just too busy watching Kent kiss Crosby to react at first. He finally tore his gaze away when Bitty elbowed him in the ribs.

“Hmm? What?” Jack asked, swiveling his head around to look down at Bitty. “Something you need?”

Bitty frowned a little bit at that and cast a vaguely annoyed look over at the hockey’s ultimate power couple, but then he turned back to Jack. “I was just thinking that, well, you don’t really need mistletoe to get a kiss, do you, hon?”

Oh. Kissing. Right, Jack could kiss.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, leaning down and giving Bitty a quick kiss on the check before checking on Kent again. 

Now he was leaning against Crosby, burrowing into his puffy vest-clad shoulder like some kind of baby rabbit. It looked utterly ridiculous, especially since Crosby barely had any height on Kent. If Kent were leaning against Jack, then, that would be a different story. They’d look good together then.

Following his gaze, Bitty huffed slightly and proceeded to barely speak to Jack throughout the rest of the tree decorating or when they sat down to dinner afterward. 

However, he made a point of engaging Kent in conversation. “So . . . Kent. Sidney,” he said, and even Jack was able to recognize the faint trace of poison not quite covered by the honey in his tone. “How is it that y’all met one another?”

The threat of passive-aggressiveness didn’t seem to register with Crosby, who only turned to look at Kent adoringly and went to squeeze his hand. “You want to tell them, babe?” he asked.

“There’s not much to tell,” Kent replied, but he was smiling at Crosby when he said it. Smiling fondly.

Jack thought the smoked salmon might be giving him heartburn. He had to give Kent credit, though; he was good at faking affection. Anyone would think that he and Crosby really were dating.

That same smile still on his face, Kent turned to look around the table. “We had a game against each other, and then our teams ended up at the same bar. We got to talking, and then, well, it just happened.” He shrugged as if trying to play it off, but Jack could see the way his smile unconsciously widened as he spoke. 

“Just like that? A couple of strangers?” Bitty pressed.

Crosby chuckled. “What Kent's not telling you is that he was the one to offer to buy me a drink and then asked me for my number at the end of the night.”

“Oh, yes, Kent certainly is a bold one,” Bitty remarked, some steel glimpsing through his sugary tone.

“That’s all right with me,” Crosby said, leaning in and giving Kent a slow, soft kiss on the cheek, which brought Kent to both grin goofily and roll his eyes at the same time. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, you know.”

God, how utterly _ phony. _ Jack couldn’t believe Kent had bought into a guy with lines that godawful. Hell, he lived in Vegas; Jack would have thought he’d be a little bit more worldly. 

No. Kent hadn’t bought into anything. He and Crosby weren’t really dating, Jack told himself firmly.

Crosby and Kent’s evident obliviousness to his slights did nothing to improve Bitty’s mood, and he spent the rest of the meal tight-lipped and scowling as Crosby regaled an enthralled Bob and Alicia with the story of how Kent took him camping in the desert for one of their first serious dates.

Camping and Kent. Somehow, the two ideas didn’t really go together in Jack’s mind, and even as he watched Kent smile at the memories and occasionally interject his own comments, it didn’t seem like something that would have really happened. He and Kent had never gone camping together, and Jack found himself unable to picture them ever doing so.

He was startled by how much that upset him.

“And the stars were just absolutely gorgeous out there,” Crosby recalled, slinging an arm around Kent’s shoulders and drawing him close, seeming to not even think as he did it. “We could see for miles out there. Just beautiful beyond words.” He sent a little smile at Kent’s way. “And I’m not talking about just the stars, either.”

A faint tint of pink blossomed in Kent’s cheeks, but he just shook his head and took another sip of his mulled wine.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He’d forgotten how much . . . softer Kent’s face looked when he blushed.

Any reveries about his past with Kent were interrupted, however, when Bitty let out a faint scoff at Crosby’s line. Jack had to agree; it was extremely cheesy, no matter how Kent reacted to it.

Kent was the only other one to catch on to Bitty’s reaction, turning slightly and arching a blond eyebrow in his direction, but looking otherwise unruffled. 

“Something stuck in your throat, Eric?” he inquired pleasantly.

“I’m fine,” Bitty replied, wearing a smile that was all teeth. It dropped the instant when Kent turned back to the conversation between Bob, Alicia, and Crosby.

Recognizing someone who needed a break from Kent’s constant bullshit, Jack reached down and gave Bitty’s hand a squeeze, and was rewarded with a bright smile.

Bitty cheered up even more at dessert time when he got to present his latest masterpiece. “It’s a double-crusted apple pie with a pecan crust and a caramel-bourbon glaze,” he said proudly, cutting into it and beginning to serve various pieces.

“It was really nice of you to make that for us,” Crosby said sincerely, and Jack felt yet another stab of irritation toward him as Bitty beamed at him.

Crosby began to stand. “I’ll go get the ice cream.”

Bitty instantly stopped him. “You don’t need ice cream. My pies are tasty all by their lonesome. No extra fixings needed.”

“I always eat my pies with ice cream,” Crosby explained, pushing his chair back.

“You. Don’t. Need. It,” Bitty replied through gritted teeth, his smile looking like it had been pasted across his face.

Both of Crosby’s eyebrows rose as he stared at Bitty for a moment. “Okay,” he said, holding up both hands in surrender. “But I’m trusting you that this pie will be just as delicious as you say,” he added jokingly, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

Kent gave an amused little scoff at that, one that was just barely audible. Jack narrowed his eyes at him.

Only when Bitty was finished serving everyone else did he offer Kent a piece. But Kent responded by putting his hand up in decline.

“No, thanks,” he said, lounging back in his chair. “I’m carb-free.”

Pausing with his fork midway to his mouth, Jack snorted out loud at the likelihood of a professional hockey player eschewing carbs entirely, and Bitty’s forced smile melted into an uncertain expression. Very rarely did anyone turn down his pie.

“Are you sure?” he asked a touch desperately, thrusting the plate toward Kent. “It’s a modern variation on my Moomaw’s recipe, and she got it from _ her _ moomaw.”

“Go ahead and eat up, Kent,” Bob encouraged him. “Wouldn’t hurt you to have some extra calories. You could use a little bit more bulk on you.”

“Here.” Crosby scooped up a piece of his own slice with his fork and offered it to him. “Try a bit of mine, yeah?

“Oh, all right,” Kent conceded, looking fondly at Crosby.

As Jack watched with an odd fluttering in his stomach, Kent gracefully leaned in and put his lips around the fork, accepting the bite.

For a moment he chewed, then he nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said mildly to Crosby, not so much as glancing Bitty’s way. “It could use some ice cream.”

Clearly upset by the implied insult, Bitty’s hand darted to Jack’s and gave it a hard squeeze, just like Jack had done for him earlier. But Jack was preoccupied with watching Crosby feed Kent a second bite of pie, and he forgot to squeeze back even as the urge registered in his mind.

After dinner was finished, Crosby insisted on helping out with the dishes, even though Bob and Alicia protested. Seizing his chance to discover what precisely had led to this saccharine sham of a relationship, Jack volunteered to work alongside him, ignoring Bitty’s questioning frown and Kent’s quirked eyebrow.

As the two of them stood by the sink together, Crosby opened with his typically inoffensive banalities. 

“It’s so generous of you and your parents to have us here for the holiday,” he told Jack with a smile as he rinsed off a plate. “Kent and I really appreciate it.

“No need to be polite with me,” Jack informed him tersely. “What’s the game between you and him?”

Crosby blinked, seeming genuinely befuddled. “Game?”

Jack let out a sigh of exasperation. “This whole story about you dating. It’s obviously not true. So why are you going along with it? Is Kent blackmailing you or something?”

For the first time all day, Crosby’s face darkened, and when he replied, there was a distinct note of coolness beneath his typically affable tone. “I can promise you it’s not just a ‘story’ that the two of us are dating, Jack,” he told him, plainly struggling to keep his voice even. “Kent means an awful lot to me. And I know he meant an awful lot to you at one point, but that time is over now.” He looked at Jack directly, and distinct discomfort flooded through Jack as he saw the honesty in Crosby’s dark brown eyes. “I love him, and he loves him. Your time with him is over.”

“I know that,” Jack snapped. Suddenly the kitchen seemed too small, closing in around him. “I’m going to take out the garbage,” he huffed, tossing the dishcloth he was holding aside.

Icy wind surged around him as he braved the Montreal night, snow crunching underfoot as he trekked out to the side of the house to where they kept the trash bins out of sight behind a square section of their tall wooden fence. Still, Jack was grateful for the sharp cold; it helped ease the sting of the revelation about Kent and Crosby. 

So they were together. _ Really _ together. It shouldn’t bother him. It didn’t. He had Bitty. He didn’t need Kent. He could be Crosby’s problem now.

It didn’t bother him. It didn’t. Really.

Still, Jack remained outside for as long as he could stand it, sheltering his hands by tucking them under his sweater and trying to lean against the side of the house for warmth. Finally, when he could feel his fingers starting to go numb, he returned back inside. Fully expecting to be met with Bitty demanding an explanation for his whereabouts that he couldn’t satisfactorily provide, Jack did his best to be as quiet as possible in hopes of avoiding him. And his stealthiness paid off as he picked up on a conversation in low tones just as he was softly closing the door of the side entrance behind him. 

“I can’t tell you how much your approval means to me,” Crosby was saying. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but since you’re Kent’s family, I wanted to be sure my plans weren’t going to upset you.”

His voice sounded like it was coming from close by; he and whoever he was speaking with were probably in the living room just off to the left. His curiosity piqued in spite of himself, Jack waited for the reply, his heart starting to beat faster. Who was Crosby talking to? 

It was Jack’s own father who replied, his voice congenial and . . . proud?

“You have our full support, Sid,” Bob responded merrily, and Jack’s stomach twisted as he realized he couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard his dad sound so happy. “We’re rooting for you and Kent, both of us.”

“And you two make such a lovely couple.” That was Jack’s mom. She sounded uncommonly excited. “I’m so relieved Kenny found a nice boy like you. I was so worried about who he’d end up with, I—” Alicia seemed to catch herself. “Well, I just know he’s made the right choice.”

Another stab of annoyance pierced through Jack, and he couldn’t explain why. Obviously, it didn’t matter, not now that he was with Bitty, but hadn’t _ Jack _been a nice boy for Kenny? Had his mother been worried he and Kent would end up together?

Wait. End up together . . . what did that _ mean_, exactly?

But before Jack could puzzle out what exactly he’d just overheard, the door behind him opened, and Kent eased his way inside. 

“Hey, Jack. Damn, it’s freezing outside,” he said, emphatically slamming the door shut and alerting Jack’s parents and Crosby to their presence. 

“Then maybe you should have summoned the brain power to put on a coat,” Jack snapped, irked that his bit of espionage had been cut short. “Why were you even out there?”

“Oh, just trying to get a good signal when taking a call from my agent,” Kent said. A note of pride entered his voice. “Calvin Klein wants me to star in a new underwear ad campaign for them.”

“Bully for you,” Jack said coldly, just as footsteps echoed for a brief moment before Alicia rounded the corner. 

“Oh, there you are, boys,” she said cheerfully. “Bitty was just wondering where both of you had gone off to. Come on in and sit with us, we have the fireplace going and he’s making us cocoa.”

While not particularly eager to suffer through yet more of Kent and Crosby’s company, Jack couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to get it out of it, so he resignedly followed his mother and Kent into the room. 

As he did, he couldn’t help but zero in on how Alicia briefly slipped her arm around Kent’s middle, taking a moment to rub the small of his back. Insecurity raged through him as he recalled how just seconds ago, she’d broken off right in the middle of her sentence._ I was so worried about who he’d end up with, I— _

What had she been about to say? _ Had _she been worried about Jack and Kent, and if so, why? Of the two of them, why would she have been worried about Kent rather than her own son? What was it about Jack that was so inadequate?

Stewing over the unanswered questions, Jack didn’t think before sitting down, and found himself automatically settling on the same sofa as Kent and Crosby. Kent flashed him a glance of surprise, and Crosby sent a suspicious look his way, a hint of a glower on his features. But it was nothing compared to the expression on Bitty’s face when he walked into the room with a tray of steaming mugs and saw Jack sitting right beside Kent, with no room left for him. He then served the hot drinks with a wide, forced smile that was pointedly aiming in Jack’s direction at every opportunity. When he was done, he was left with no choice but to perch on the loveseat by himself.

Jack paid none of them any attention and also tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach as he realized how his thigh was almost touching Kent’s. And how Crosby’s hand was resting easily on Kent’s other thigh as though it came naturally to him.

Jack used to do that. Back when he and Kent were dating.

A flare of what Jack told himself was aggravation stirred low in his stomach at the sight, and he forced himself to listen to the conversation instead of wondering if Kent liked the same things with Crosby that he used to like with Jack.

The topic of discussion was summer plans; Crosby and Kent were trying to make arrangements to go to the beach for a few weeks. They were apparently already poring over listings for beachfront cabins to rent, even though they still hadn’t pinned down the actual destination itself.

“Of course, Belize is always beautiful in the summer,” Bob was telling Kent and Crosby. “Actually, that’s where we had our honeymoon.” He nudged Alicia. “Isn’t that right, Leesh?”

“It certainly is, darling,” Alicia said, leaning against his shoulder with a roguish grin on her face. “And what a honeymoon it was.”

Jack recognized the implication and knew enough to be automatically repulsed by it, but couldn’t manage any further disgust. He was too busy watching Crosby and Kent exchange clandestine smiles, having obviously caught on as well. He wondered what each of them were thinking about in that moment, if either of them were considering what they might do on their honeymoon if they ever got married.

For some reason, Jack’s stomach twisted at the thought.

“I just want to find the perfect beach getaway,” Crosby told them. He glanced over at Kent, affection obnoxiously clear in his eyes, before turning back to the rest of them. “Did you know that this guy has never been to the beach before? I’ll be the first person who takes him there.”

Kent laughed. “He’s just so desperate to be my first,” he said to Bob and Alicia, as if confiding in them.

The bottom of Jack stomach dropped out as if he’d been plunged into freefall at the oh-so-casual and joking admission, and he jerked so hard that the cocoa nearly sloshed out of his Santa Claus mug.

_ He’d _ been Kent’s first. That was _his_. Not Crosby’s. Screw Kent for teasing him about that.

Shooting a glare Kent’s way and then at Crosby for good measure, which went unnoticed by both of them, Jack then set to racking his brain to see if he could embarrass Kent by proving him wrong. Prove that Crosby was nothing special. _ Had _ Kent ever been to the beach before? Jack concentrated as much as he could, desperate to poke a hole in the story, but was unable to come up with anything beyond Kent tagging along on family vacations to the Zimmermann lakehouse. And their lake house had a dock, not a beach.

“Can you blame me?” Crosby asked, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked at Kent like Kent was the only other person in the world. Lifting up Kent’s hand, he smoothed a thumb over the back of his palm before bringing it to his lips to kiss. “You know, I still haven’t ruled out the idea of us getting a private island for a couple of days.”

Frustrated, Jack slumped back in his seat, desperate to find a distraction from the diabetes-inducing display beside him. Shifting his gaze to scan the room, he found himself accidentally locking eyes with Bitty, who wore an expression of distinct displeasure that only increased as their gazes met. 

Jack could guess why. The two of them hadn’t discussed plans for New Year’s yet, let alone summer.

Looking away, Jack resolved to ignore him. But he couldn’t ignore Crosby and Kent and how comfortable they seemed with one another, relaxed but never hesitating to touch one another. Kent gave Crosby a kiss on the cheek; Crosby threaded his hand through Kent’s hair.

It was as though they were made for each other. And just the thought had Jack squeezing his nails into his palms for a reason he couldn’t quite name.

“I’m going to go up to bed,” Jack said, unable to take any more. “It’s been a long day, with the flight and all.”

The nonstop flight had actually been less than two hours, but to his mixed gratitude and irritation, no one called him on it. His parents both wished him good night, as did Crosby and Kent. But the sight of Crosby hand still on Kent’s thigh, as well as Kent’s head on Crosby’s shoulder, failed to inspire any sense of goodwill toward anyone within Jack.

As Jack rose from his place on the couch, Bitty sprung up from the loveseat as well, no doubt out of misguided loyalty. Jack just wasn’t sure he could handle Bitty’s particular brand of loving support right now; sometimes it was so constant and thorough that it was nearly suffocating, and he couldn’t help but predict this night would be one of those times. 

“I’ll join you,” he said, with a wave to the rest of their gathering. “Night, y’all.”

Jack didn’t wait for him to say his goodbyes; too impatient, he had already started down the hall and toward the staircase. Bitty had to run to catch up with him.

“We’re not going to the guest house?” Bitty questioned in surprise as he saw Jack mount the carpeted mahogany stairs.

“No,” Jack told him, aggravated just at the mention. The two of them had stayed in the picturesque stone cottage last time they’d visited, but this time another couple had that honor. “Mom and Dad decided Kent and his—_boyfriend_—” he couldn’t quite spit out the word without sounding sarcastic, “—should get it, since neither of them are family and both of them are guests.” 

“That Kent Parson,” Bitty muttered, disappointment intermingling with the bitterness in his voice.

Jack could understand the dismay. Last time it had been nice to have their own private escape in the middle of all the stress and pressure that was an unfortunate accompaniment to any visit with his parents, and he certainly would have been grateful for it again now. 

So he didn’t understand why he felt compelled to turn to Bitty and inform him coolly, “You would have known we were staying upstairs if you’d helped me carry in the bags earlier today.” 

It was a plainly vindictive thing to say, and it wasn’t exactly smart, either, driving away the only other person in the household who was on his side. Still, Jack couldn’t suppress a twinge of twisted satisfaction at the shock and hurt he glimpsed on Bitty’s face when he glanced over his shoulder at him. 

But he couldn’t be worried about Bitty now. Because if they weren’t staying in the guest house, then they were staying in the room where he and Kent spent a great deal of time together back in Juniors. They were staying in the room where Kent used to kiss Jack with all his might, where Kent used to hold Jack’s head in his lap and stroke his hair, where Kent used to shove Jack back against the bed and unbuckle his belt and put his mouth all over Jack’s cock.

He and Kent used to have actual sex in this room, and as Jack spun the doorknob and stepped inside, he couldn’t help but think back to how frequently it used to happen. 

Trying to block all of those images out of his mind, Jack instead forced himself to concentrate on his nighttime routine. The certainty of it, the reassurance of following every step, helped him cope whenever he was feeling especially anxious.

Bitty didn’t speak a single word to him as Jack began to prepare for bed, instead flopping onto the mattress with a scowl and beginning to furiously text on his phone. As such, Jack felt no guilt whatsoever about monopolizing the en suite bathroom so he could take long hot shower, letting the spray pound down onto his tense muscles, luxuriating in the phenomenal water pressure temporarily sluicing away the day’s stresses. 

Bitty still didn’t seem thrilled with him even when Jack finished brushing his teeth and let him have the bathroom, but by the time he finished his own shower, he seemed to recover a little bit.

When Bitty slipped into bed beside Jack, he leaned in to press against him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips and then a deeper one, his small hand straying to Jack’s waistband.

“You know,” he began, a devilish smile starting to curve across his mouth. “Tonight doesn’t have to be _ all _ bad. We could—”

“_No._” Instantly, Jack shoved his hand away, his heart pounding with dread rather than anticipation. “Not tonight, Bits.”

It would be too weird. He’d had sex with Kent in this room. He’d had sex with Kent in this _ bed. _

“Fine,” Bitty huffed, and then he made a big show of pulling the blankets over to his side and turning his back to Jack.

For a moment, Jack eyed him with regret, wondering if he should have taken Bitty up on the offer, if not for the sake of Bitty’s ego, then for his own. After all, sex could be a way of releasing tension, and Christ knew Jack had enough of it thanks to Kent’s antics.

_ Kent. _

Suddenly, Jack found himself wondering if Kent and Crosby were screwing. Not just in the hypothetical, but if they’d gone back to the guest house by now and Crosby was railing into Kent, his powerful thighs giving him plenty of leverage to pound a pliant and moaning Kent straight down into the mattress. And Jack found the blood rushing straight to his groin as he imagined what kind of sounds Crosby could draw out of Kent’s mouth. Did Kent still like it the same way he’d loved for Jack to take him back in Juniors, hard and fast and brutal, or had Kent’s tastes changed over the years?

But any fantasies flitted from Jack’s mind as another question occurred to him: did Kent compare Jack’s performance in bed to Crosby’s? If so, was Jack the one he considered lacking? 

He shouldn’t have been, Jack defended himself. He was only a kid then, only seventeen when they first started having sex and then eighteen during their last time. Anything he did or didn’t do at that age shouldn’t be held against him.

Jack tried to convince himself, repeating it as a mantra over and over, but between Bitty sleeping in bed beside him and wondering about the activities in the guest house and Kent’s thoughts on him, he had difficulty shutting his eyes that night.

* * *

When morning arrived, Jack was barely able to drag himself out of bed, but did so only so he could ensure he got to shower and drive the sleep away from his brain. The day’s events would be enough of a trial without having to be stumbling around in a tired daze the entire time. 

Bitty was awake and dressed when Jack stepped back into the bedroom, finishing brushing his hair. He stopped and watched without speaking the moment Jack walked in again, the weight of his judgement nearly oppressive. As Jack dressed and tried to ignore the dread rising inside of him at the inevitable discussion Bitty would want to have, Bitty merely sat in silence, his gaze never leaving him.

Looked like Jack would need to be the one to extend the olive branch, then.

“Morning, Bits,” Jack said softly, turning to him and walking over to sweep him into a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

As predicted, Bitty preened as Jack’s attention, and any trace of coolness was gone by the time they separated.

“Oh, hon, let’s just enjoy the day together,” Bitty said as he cuddled up against Jack. “It’s Christmas, after all. I don’t want to fight.”

Smiling, Jack kissed the top of his head. “Yeah. I knew you wouldn’t.”

They walked downstairs hand in hand, calling out Christmas greetings the moment they entered the hall. They were the last to arrive; Kent and Crosby and Jack’s parents were already gathered at the family room Christmas tree, the one where they all left presents for one another. 

The gift exchange went mostly fine, as far as Jack could tell, though frankly he was far more interested in his coffee. It was slightly embarrassing, he’d admit, that Kent and Crosby gave them both a gift from them as a couple (a large basket of unique snack foods from all over the world, no doubt thanks to the wide variety of cuisine available in Vegas) and Kent gave them both gifts individually (a very rare and out of print book on Revolutionary War forts for Jack and a very high-end set of cooking spices for Bitty). Neither Jack nor Bitty had anything for them. When Jack had told Bitty that Kent would be at the house for Christmas, Bitty had been upset that he hadn’t prepared a gift of any kind, his love of etiquette somehow stronger than his hate for Kent. Now, Jack watched as Bitty attempted to be gracious about his present while not drawing attention to the fact that he had nothing to give Kent in return, and Jack found himself automatically recoiling from the awkwardness of it.

But as misfortune would have it, the worst part of the gift exchange had yet to come.

As soon as Bob and Alicia had finished cooing over the gifts Kent gave to them (a custom Rolex for Bob and a lovely necklace for Alicia), Crosby cleared his throat, drawing the entire room’s attention to him. Jack took the opportunity to note with disdain that Crsoby was actually wearing a Christmas sweater, red with that vintage-ish type of snowflake and reindeer pattern.

“I just want to thank you all again for giving me the opportunity to share the holidays here with you,” Crosby said with an almost beatific smile, and while Jack had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, his parents seemed to love it. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to come out and meet Kent’s family officially.”

Something about the phrasing struck Jack as significant, though he couldn’t place why. Still, his dread from earlier suddenly spiked again.

“And it’s made me realize,” Crosby continued, turning his gaze on Kent, “that I never want to spend another Christmas without you. I want to be with you every year, celebrating it together.”

“You’re so sweet, Sid,” Kent said, grinning at him and going in for a kiss, but Crosby stopped him.

Inwardly, Jack let out a victorious whoop, smugly elated at Kent being turned down. That was, until Crosby held up a gleaming gold ring set with several gemstones. Even if Jack hadn’t realized the significance in that particular moment, it would have registered at Bitty’s comically loud gasp. 

“I want you to marry me,” Crosby told Kent, looking at Kent with an expression of absolute adoration that Jack had never glimpsed a single other soul wear in his entire life. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

For a moment, Kent froze, his face going blank, and Jack was consumed by wild hope that Kent would reject the proposal.

But in the next moment, Kent let out a shaky laugh. “I want that, too,” he told Sid. “I’ve never felt . . . there’s never been anyone else I’ve loved more than you, Sid.”

Jack felt as though a fist was gripping his heart and squeezing with all of its might.

Crosby’s eyes seemed suspiciously moist. “Is that a yes, then?”

“It’s a definitely,” Kent replied, his voice soft but brimming with affection. “I can’t imagine ever marrying anyone else.” 

Grinning, Crosby slid the ring onto Kent’s finger. As soon as it was in place, Alicia darted over to grab Kent in a bear hug, while Bob tapped away at his phone to bring up the camera and then began to urge the newly engaged couple to recreate the proposal so he could snap pictures.

Meanwhile, Jack found himself frozen, watching the scene unfold before him with a strange sense of detachment. After several seconds, he recognized that someone's eyes were resting on him, and he glanced over at Bitty to find his boyfriend watching him with his jaw set.

In that instant, Jack realized that he had no concrete or even abstract plans in the future of marrying Bitty. He’d just never even considered it.

But with Kent marrying Crosby, especially when Crosby had proposed right in front of Jack’s parents, the pressure was on.

Jack _ hated _ pressure.

Rising silently, Jack began to make his way to the kitchen to refill his coffee. On his way out, he happened to make eye contact with Crosby. And, in a contrast to the level-headed friendliness that Crosby had almost never let drop the entire visit, this time he responded by sending a smirk Jack’s way and wrapping a possessive arm around Kent’s shoulders.

Jack’s time with Kent was over. Crosby wanted him to know that. And Jack seethed about it the entire way to the kitchen.

Barely resisting slamming his mug down on the marble counter, Jack had just reached for the coffee pot when his eyes landed on the authentic Southern bourbon Bitty had brought along as gift for Jack’s parents. Abandoning the idea of coffee, he found himself reaching for the bottle instead.

Jack had never figured himself for a day drinker, not during college, not during the NHL. But something told him that between the happy couple and Bitty’s unspoken expectations, he would need to become one to make it through Christmas dinner. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit headcanons, fic ideas, or just talk about Kent!


End file.
